


A Bored Author Begs for One-Shot Requests: The Fanfiction

by WaitingForMy



Series: A Bored Author Begs for One-Shot Requests [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Boredom, Crutchie’s crutch is a god, Gen, Help, I wrote this stone cold sober, Quarantine, Vaguely disturbing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForMy/pseuds/WaitingForMy
Summary: The Coronavirus quarantine drags on.
Series: A Bored Author Begs for One-Shot Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704226
Comments: 33
Kudos: 23





	A Bored Author Begs for One-Shot Requests: The Fanfiction

“Extry, extry—Coronavirus quarantine drags on!” Jack ‘Cowboy’ Kelly, newsboy extraordinaire, shouts across an empty street.

No one replies.

A balled up copy of the Trib blows across his path like a tumbleweed.

A single tear traces down his cheek and soaks into his CDC recommended face mask.

These are dark times, indeed.

”How am I supposed to sell papes if everyone’s stuck inside?” Jack grumbles, plopping himself down on the curb.

He’s so busy wallowing in his own self-pity that he doesn’t hear the telltale _click_ of Crutchie’s crutch making its way down the sidewalk.

”Clickity-click, comin’ in thicc,” the crutch announces upon its arrival.

”Crutchie’s crutch!” Jack exclaims. “But where’s Crutchie?”

”He’s social distancing, like you should be,” the crutch replies sagely.

“But I’m sooooo booooored!”

“So is The AuthorTM. Actually, that’s why I’m here.” The crutch sits on the curb next to Jack, snapping itself into thirds to do so. “The AuthorTM would like to ask one-shot requests from The ReadersTM.”

Jack gasps, dropping his papes into his lap. “BuT hOw?¿?”

” _That_ is where we come in.” Crutchie’s crutch begins to glow. It turns to you, staring through your screen, gazing into your very soul. “READERTM,” it booms, thunderous and god-like, “THE AUTHORTM CALLS UPON YOU. BESTOW UPON THEM THY ONE-SHOT REQUESTS.”

Jack’s eyes, which began to bleed upon seeing Crutchie’s crutch’s true form, widen. “But what are the rules?”

”This AuthorTM’s boundaries are few and far between, my child,” the almighty crutch explains. “They simply retain the right to ignore or refuse any request for any reason. In other words—” The crutch shrugs. Don’t ask me how. “— _GO NUTS_.”

Jack faints.

The almighty crutch turns back to you. “Go forth, my children. Take the word.”

In an explosion of light and newspaper, the crutch disappears.

The Coronavirus quarantine drags on. 


End file.
